


The Righteous Man Surrenders

by SaenaLife



Series: Righteous Man [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage and Discipline, Dean Angst, Demon Sex, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, Guilt, M/M, Male Slash, Multi, Obsession, Oral Sex, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Sub!Dean, Threesome, Vaginal Fingering, if you meet someone like this irl run away!, this is NOT SAFE SEX
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaenaLife/pseuds/SaenaLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night with Crowley's demon lover left Dean with an obsession that he doesn't want and can't ignore, but he's gotta find a way to move on with his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Righteous Man Surrenders

**Author's Note:**

> This will make SO much more sense if you've read the first part of the series, Break The Righteous Man.  
> Also, this is the first time I've written anything even close to male slash, so I'm a little nervous, but you go where the story takes you sometimes, right?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Dean Winchester or anything in the Supernatural canon. Everything else is mine.

* * * * * * * * *

Dean woke up in the front seat of the Impala to find the car's interior dimly lit by the pearly grey light of dawn. Confused, he looked around at his surroundings, recognizing the bar he'd been in the night before, its windows shuttered against the gleam of early sunlight. He felt a twinge at his wrist and lifted his hands to the steering wheel, freezing when he saw the raw scrapes. The events of last night tumbled through his head in a series of disjointed images and his knuckles whitened on the wheel in a death grip as the shock of memory hit him.

 _Oh shit._ _Did I really do that?! I let a demon tie me down and fuck me into a threesome with motherfucking Crowley! What kind of sick, messed up shit is that?!_

Stomach clenching against a wave of nausea, Dean dropped his forehead to the wheel in despairing disbelief.

_At least Sam had an excuse! I was dead, he was alone, Ruby took advantage of that. But not me! Nope, I'm just a sick fucker! How did I ever think he was the monster?!_

Minutes passed as Dean sat unmoving, his mind running the same circles over and over, unable to escape the appalling reality no matter how frantically he tried. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He smashed one hand into the wheel before throwing the door open and climbing out. Slamming it, he marched to the trunk to get the first aid kit, bandaging his wrists in the cold morning breeze.

Task finished, he climbed back into the driver's seat and found himself confronted with the drive to Bobby's house. Bobby's house, where Sam was probably up already, doing yoga or tai chi or some other weird ass thing. Sam, who would undoubtedly want to know what had happened to his wrists.

_Fuck! Now I'm gonna have to lie to Sam! Again!_

Staring down at the gauze and tape, Dean decided to keep it as close to the truth as possible.

“ _Hooked up with some chick. She had cuffs and things got a little wild. No biggie.”_

Out of nowhere, a memory burst into the front of his consciousness, of the feel of the cuffs as he yanked on them when she finally slid her hot, wet pussy down onto his aching cock. When Dean felt himself begin to harden, self-loathing threatened to overwhelm him for a second. Then her face flashed into his mind and the wave of emotion shifted into rage.

 _She did this! Her and her dickwad boyfriend, they suckered me into that stuff! Kidnapped me and drugged me! Hell, they probably roofied me! That would explain a lot!_ Jaw working, Dean started the car. _Well they ain't gonna get away with it. Next time they come for me, I'll be ready._ He grimly pointed the Impala in the direction of Bobby's and gunned it.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Dean took to carrying several small bottles of holy water stashed in various pockets at all times, along with a pouch of salt and the Kurdish demon killing knife he'd gotten from Ruby years ago. That first night back at Bobby's, he couldn't sleep, in spite of how exhausting it had been to act like everything was normal, like _he_ was normal. He tossed and turned for a long while before giving in and padding in his bare feet down to the panic room in the basement. There, at last, Dean was able to sleep for two solid hours.

In the deep of the night, he woke from a vague, but intensely erotic dream and lay there, staring up at the fan spinning lazily in the vent above him, desperately trying to control the urge to stroke himself.

_Bitch must have put a spell on me. I won't let her manipulate me!_

He spent the rest of the night counting the blades as they ticked by in an effort to smother the carnal impressions that kept pushing into his brain, snippets and jolts of memory that refused to let him rest. The sky hadn't yet begun to lighten when he wearily climbed the stairs to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. It was gonna be another long day.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

The next few days were rough, but nothing Dean couldn't handle. How many years had he functioned on next to no sleep? It would have been a hell of a lot easier if there had been a case in the works, though. Unfortunately, there was nothing. Nothing at all. It was almost eery how quiet the monster front was.

 _Bet she got Crowley to do that just to make me crazy._ The thought was tinged with the by-now-habitual resentment and impotent fury. _If I could just get my hands on her!_ Dean stopped short when he realized for the first time that he didn't even know her name. In his thoughts, it was always _she_ or _her_ , but in the deep down back of his brain, there was a whispering echo of * _Mistress*_. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

It had been five days since Dean woke in the Impala to this nightmare, and the raw edge of his rage was gradually dulling. His frustration, on the other hand, was steadily climbing. It had taken a steep jump the previous day when he had remembered the lack of condoms in use and had completed a frantic online search to discover that it would be at least 6 weeks before he could be sure he hadn't picked up any of the more common STDs. _Goddamn demons!_ Dean couldn't in good conscience go out and sleep with some girl when he didn't know the state of his own junk. Not that he couldn't go without it when he needed to, but his sex drive was redlining these days. That, combined with the constant state of watchfulness, didn't make sleep any easier. He kept waking up in the middle of the night with a hard-on.

It didn't occur to him until the sixth day that maybe they weren't going to try again.

Dean shoved the thought away, absently rubbing the faint marks on his wrist left by the handcuffs. Now was not the time to let his guard down; he needed to stay focused and ready. They'd show all right!

Two days later, strung out on coffee and fuzzy with exhaustion, he was on his way out to the garage to give Baby an oil change ( _gotta do somethin' to kill the time, still no fuckin' hunts_ ), when a voice drifted up through Dean's memory, low and sensual and mocking.

“If you fuck something, set it free...”

He stumbled, reaching to catch himself on a rusted-out old Lincoln as the end of that saying hit him in the gut.

“... not good enough in the first place.”

_No way she meant that! She (*Mistress*) said she was pleased, she said excellent!_

Dean cut his thoughts off when he realized the direction they were headed. This was getting ridiculous! It didn't matter what she thought of him, he was gonna gank her the next time he saw her! Dean headed into the garage, trying to ignore the tiny voice inside wondering if he would ever see her again.

But the thought gnawed at him. Dean couldn't dismiss the idea that maybe she really had found him lacking. He also couldn't dismiss the twist of anxiety at the thought, but he told himself it was because he might never get a chance for revenge on her and Crowley.

_More'n a week now, where the fuck are they?_

 

_* * * * * * * * *_

 

That night, Dean took a fresh bottle of whiskey down to the panic room with him, determined to get some damn sleep. He hadn't been willing to chance getting drunk and taken off guard, so he'd cut way back on the drinking, downing just enough that Sam and Bobby didn't get suspicious. By the time he was deep into his second tumblerful, Dean was really starting to feel it, leaning his head back against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him on the cot.

Eyes closed, he listened to the radio he'd brought down and let his mind wander. As usual these days, it wandered straight into the gutter. _So fuckin' horny!_ Shrugging in something like resignation, Dean downed the rest of his drink before unbuttoning his jeans for what seemed like the thousandth time this week. Whenever he had a chance at privacy, he found himself unable to resist the temptation to jack off. It was that or walk around with an erection all day long, which could get awkward.

With a quick glance at the closed door, Dean shoved out of his jeans and stripped off his t-shirt. Might as well be comfortable. He settled back, taking hold of his rapidly stiffening cock in a loose grip, enjoying the sensation of skin on skin. Closing his eyes again, Dean called up one of his favorite scenes from the Casa Erotica videos. It hadn't been easy, but all week long he'd managed to keep his fantasies strictly in the realm of women he'd seen on film. She ( _*Mistress*_ ) might have put a spell on him, but he didn't have to think about her while he was rubbing one out.

His grip tightened and he began to pump slowly, running his palm up and over the head of his cock with every stroke. Quickly though, Dean's pace increased as he replayed the scene between the hot Spanish teacher and the football player in the teacher's lounge.

That was when the whiskey betrayed him.

Without warning, the teacher and student were gone and she ( _*Mistress*_ ) was there, smiling at him, touching him. Dean's breath caught and his hips jumped a little off the mattress. Stroking more and more quickly, he felt her hands and mouth on him. In his mind, she moaned and Dean moaned with her. And then she was about to take him into her pussy, his fist a blur on his cock, he was gasping “Yes, Mistress, please...” and she slammed down onto him and he was coming all over his hand with a shout of “Mistress!”.

Chest heaving, Dean lay there, uncaring of the cum slowly cooling on his belly, struggling to deny the one thing that had just become crystal clear.

There was no spell, no drugs. He just wanted her, wanted her to be his Mistress and to make him her pet again.

He wanted to be taken.

 

* * * * * * * * *

Lasa

Moaning, I struggled to stay braced on my hands as Crowley grasped my hips and pulled me fiercely back onto his cock, driving into me over and over. The straps at my knees rasped against my skin, spreading my legs uncomfortably wide and giving me no leverage to push back against him, much as I wanted to. Crowley leaned over me and slid one hand up around my neck, just under the ruby choker he'd given me the day after our first encounter with Dean. I had let him go on thinking that the tiny Devil's Traps worked into the design had any but the most meager dampening effect on my powers. It didn't really matter anyway, the feel of the collar around my throat worked for me in other ways.

I felt his breath whisper against the skin of my back as the dark, demanding murmur drifted over my shoulder. His words came in small bursts in time with his thrusts, counterpoint to his relentless, steady pace.

“Love it... don't you? … let me... put it in... every hole... you've got... all of them... at once... if you could.” He grunted and the pace sped up a little. Sliding a hand around my rib cage, he gave a hard pinch to my nipple, making me jump and groan. “Answer me, sweet.”

I was nearly incoherent in the face of my onrushing orgasm. “Oh yes, Master, everywhere, anything you want, love your cock inside me, oh, Master, so close, please, just like that, oh, don't stop, don't stop...” My words broke off in a wail of desperate pleading when he suddenly pulled back, holding himself frozen at my entrance.

Crowley's voice was stern with disapproval. “Was that a demand?” He spoke again, more harshly. “Were you telling me what to do, sweet?”

“No! No, Master! Please...” Muscles twitched all over my body and my hips rolled and twisted with the force of my built up arousal. I frantically resisted trying to recapture his cock, even though I could feel it so temptingly close. If I did that, Crowley would take it away and who knows how long it would be before he would let me come on its hard length? I couldn't take the chance. “I'm sorry, Master, I wasn't demanding, I was begging, begging you to fuck me forever, please, Master, fuck me again, please, please fuck me...” I was shameless. But then, the pursuit of pleasure isn't something I consider shameful.

I felt his hand stroke soothingly down my back and heard his husky whisper. “Shh, hush now, sweeting.”

Although the feel of his cock just outside my body was maddening, I fought to obey. I closed my eyes, breathing deep, and soon I knelt there, trembling uncontrollably but otherwise still. My restraint was tenuous, though, threatening to slip away and leave me writhing and begging again.

“Lovely, my sweet, well done,” Crowley crooned, caressing me in a way that made me push into his hands, asking for more but stopping just shy of disobedience. His fingers dug into my hips. “Now, just hold still, don't make a sound until I tell you, and I'll let you come on my cock. Tell me you understand.”

I swallowed, my mouth dry, forcing a whisper past the knot of need wedged in my throat. “Yes, Master.”

Crowley responded to my words by beginning to press his cock slowly into my entrance, his pace glacial and infuriating. He'd barely penetrated me when I felt my internal walls start to pulse and clench. I smothered a gasp and every muscle in my body tightened in my battle to obey Crowley's commands.

The farther into my cunt he pushed, the more intense the feelings were and soon nothing existed except the feel of his cock gradually filling me. When he pressed against my back wall, despite my best intentions (and frankly amazing willpower), I dropped my head and whimpered, shifting against him with small motions. The part of my brain that was still working expected Crowley to be angry, but he must have been feeling generous.

“That was most impressive, sweet,” he gritted out, the strain in his voice my first clue that holding back was costing him almost as much as it cost me. “Now beg me again.”

“Please! Master, please, fuck me!” If he didn't move inside me soon, I wasn't going to be responsible for my actions. He did start to move, though, pulling himself back out at the same unbelievably slow rate. I moaned quietly in disbelief. How the fuck did he have that much control?

“Do you know why I call you sweet?” Crowley was trying for a conversational tone, but the cracks in his facade were a mile wide. He paused, still half buried. “It's because you are the sweetest piece of ass I've ever known.” With that, he rammed back into me, driving deep and hard and fast, and my world tilted, overbalanced by the swiftly expanding pleasure.

I could feel Crowley's thrusts becoming erratic and the awareness that he would come soon only added to my excitement. He slid one hand down over my belly, pausing just above my pussy even as he lunged more and more quickly. His voice sounded again, compelling, that damn voice that could almost make me come on its own. “Say my name when you come!” With that, he brushed a finger over my clit and shoved deep into me one last time.

“Crowley!” I screamed. “Yes, Crowley! Yes!” I dimly heard him shout his release as we thrashed against each other. I think I might have blacked out for a second or two, because the next thing I knew, I was collapsed on the bed, Crowley's body draped over me as we both struggled to catch our breath.

He was the first to recover, at least enough to release the restraints at my knees. With a muffled groan, I slowly dragged my stiff limbs into a more comfortable position. Raising a brow, I glanced to where Crowley lay next to me with his eyes closed, a small smile curving his lips.

“Liar.” My voice was low, but certain. “I _am_ the best you've ever had, but that's not why you call me sweet. It's because I'm anything but, and you know the name irritates the fuck out of me.”

Without opening his eyes, smile still in place, Crowley reached out and pulled me to him. He shrugged as I settled my head onto his chest and his arm curved around my back. “Little column A, little column B.” With a deep relaxed sigh, he began to trace his fingertip in slow patterns on my arm.

Drowsily amused by his answer, I decided to let it drop and a comfortable silence fell between us. I found my mind wandering over the details of my current side project – namely, breaking Dean Winchester's spirit and making him wholly mine.

It had been ten days since I'd brought him into my bed and I calculated that he should be ready to boil over right about now. Let him stew a few more days, long enough to think that was the worst of it. I glanced speculatively up at Crowley. If my instincts were right, and that was a good bet, he should be in the right frame of mind any time now, too.

Crowley's voice rumbled beneath my cheek. “You haven't mentioned that dolt hunter since you had him. Decide he was too limited for you?” He tried to sound casual, but there was a faint tensing in his body that told me he was extremely interested in my answer. Satisfaction spread through me. How I loved spinning my webs and watching the prey wander so predictably into my clutches!

“Hmm, maybe, at least in the long term. But I have a couple of ideas and I've decided that I want to toy with him a little while longer. In fact, I'd like you to help me turn up the heat a little.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Nothing too strenuous for now, just a small errand to deliver something for me. And I'm going to need you to be as sly and subtle as I know the King of Hell can be.”

“I'm intrigued. Anything else?”

I levered myself up onto one elbow and looked down into his face. “If things play out the way I think they will, I'm going to have to treat you badly later on.” Crowley smiled wolfishly. “ _Very_ badly.”

“I look forward to it.”

“You say that now...” I said warningly, lightly tapping his chest. “Be prepared, Boy Scout.”

Pulling a face at the nickname, Crowley hooked one finger into the jeweled collar I still wore. He said nothing, just stared up into my eyes, and I felt a flush of heat run through me.

Biting my lip, I dropped my eyes to his mouth and amended my statement. “Be prepared, Master.”

He smiled, but left his hand where it was, exerting just the slightest pressure on the band around my neck. “And when am I supposed to make this delivery, my sweet?” His voice dropped to a gravelly murmur on the last two words and my eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Annoying as the name was, it always signaled an extremely pleasurable experience. I was suddenly intensely aware of the smell of sex that surrounded us.

I flashed a look at Crowley though my lashes, meek with a spark of fire. “Day after tomorrow, if it pleases you, Master.”

I saw his pupils dilate and he began to slowly pull on the collar, drawing me down to his mouth. His warm breath ghosted across my lips when he spoke, the dark smoky voice sending another twist of desire through me. “I'm much more concerned with what pleases me now.”

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Dean waited until Sam went on a supply run. He found Bobby sitting in the study with his head buried in a book, hot cup of coffee at his elbow and a half full bottle of whiskey nearby for when the clock ticked over to noon. Ambling in as casually as possible, Dean flopped into a chair across the desk from Bobby.

“Hey, you got any sleeping pills? I'm fightin' a wicked case of insomnia and it's kicking my ass.”

“Yeah, I got sleeping pills.” Clapping the book shut, Bobby leaned forward over the desk, scanning Dean with watchful eyes. “On one condition – you tell me what the hell's been going on with you for the last week.”

Entirely unsurprised by Bobby's perceptiveness, Dean held onto his poker face. “What do you mean? Nothin's goin' on with me. Just can't sleep is all.”

“Bullshit. You been mopin' around here for days, keep to yourself all the time, won't hardly talk to me and Sam. Somethin's up and you don't get the knock out drops 'til I know what it is.”

It was clear to Dean that Bobby wasn't going to be put off. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean sat forward in his chair. “Fine, nosey-Nelly, here's what's up.” He took a deep breath, jaw clenching for a moment before he continued. “I've been having nightmares. About Hell. I don't know if it's because we haven't had a case in over a week and my brain has time to hash it all out again or what. Whatever it is, if I don't get some real rest soon, I won't be any good when a hunt does come up.” He eyed Bobby challengingly. “So you gonna give me the pills or not?”

Bobby sat there studying him for so long, Dean felt a shot of adrenaline in his gut at the possibility that he would have to try to sell another lie. Or worse, tell the truth. Finally, though, Bobby gave a sharp nod and pushed back from the desk. “Fine.” He jabbed a finger in Dean's direction. “But this is a temporary measure. I'll give you three days worth. If those nightmares don't clear up by then, we're gonna have to dig a whole lot deeper into it.”

“I just need a couple nights of real sleep and I'll be fine, Bobby, I swear.” As Bobby left the room, Dean slumped down in his chair for a second in relief. Sleep tonight! The relief faded when he realized he was brushing the fingertips of one hand over the cuff marks, now nearly invisible unless you knew where to look. He just wished he could be sure it had been the truth when he said he'd be fine.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Forty-eight hours later, Dean felt a whole lot steadier. He'd had two nights of unbroken sleep and it had made a world of difference. He went hours at a time without thinking about her and had started to feel a cautious sense of relief at the idea that they weren't coming back. Maybe it was over.

Dean put that night in the panic room down to psychosis caused by lack of sleep and desperate horniness. He was still horny, no denying that. But it was a normal, everyday level of horny, not the raging cyclone of need that it had been. And hey it was only, what? Like, four and a half weeks until he could test clean. Just over a month and he'd be on the prowl again. He could do that.

Forking up the last bite of eggs and washing it down with coffee, Dean stood to clear his dishes, nodding to Bobby and Sam as they came in. Turning back from the sink, he offered, “Want me to scramb...” His voice cut off as Dean saw Crowley standing framed in the archway behind them.

Seeing Dean's face, Sam and Bobby whirled to face Crowley. Dean felt the breakfast he'd just eaten rise in his throat as he stared in despair at the King of Hell. He closed his eyes, waiting for Crowley to reveal his secret and destroy Dean's life.

“Hello, boys.”

“Tell us what you want, Crowley, and then get the fuck outta my house.” Bobby was pissed at being caught without a weapon to hand.

“Can't a demon just drop by for a friendly chat with his favorite smug, self-important, hairless apes? You wound me, Bobby.” Laying a hand over his heart, Crowley dropped his head in mock distress.

Sam shifted forward on his feet, impatient. “Spit it out!”

Dropping the facade, Crowley nodded. “Fair enough. To business then, since you're in such a rush.” Dean braced himself, but his eyes flew open at Crowley's next words. “Tell me where that traitorous bitch Meg is.”

“We don't know that! Wouldn't tell you if we did!” Bobby waved his hands at Crowley. “Now, shoo!”

“That's a most convincing answer, but I'm afraid I'm going to need something a bit more substantial.” Crowley's gaze traveled from Sam to Bobby and back again, never once connecting with Dean's wide-eyed stare.

“Listen, he's telling the truth, we don't know where Meg is.” Sam was using his ultra-reasonable voice, the one the drove Dean crazy most of the time. “She shows up and disappears whenever she damn well pleases. _You_ know that better than anyone.”

Frowning as the slight dig hit home, Crowley abruptly conceded. “Fine. But you know she's got no real loyalty to you and she'll betray you one of these days. Beat her to the punch. Next time she comes round, give me a jingle. We'll make a deal.”

“Fat chance.” Bobby's voice was dry.

“Just think about it.” Crowley nodded once to Sam and to Bobby and then he finally looked Dean in the eye, allowing the faintest knowing smile to emerge, sly and subtle. Then he was gone.

Sam was puzzled. “What the fuck was that about? It can't just have been about Meg.” He and Bobby exchanged glances.

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed, “had to be somethin' else he wanted. But what?”

Abruptly, Dean pushed away from the sink. “Stinks like demon in here! I'm gonna get some air.” Grabbing his jacket from the stair railing on his way out the back, he headed for the Impala.

_Shit! Fuck! Shit! Shitshitshit! What am I gonna do?!_

Dean's mind was spinning out the same as the Impala's tires in the gravel when he punched down on the accelerator, trying to outrun his own reaction to Crowley's reminder. Because that's exactly what it was, a reminder of the insane intimacy and mind-blowing pleasure of that night with her ( _*Mistress*_ ).

It brought it all back – every word, every touch. Most of all, it brought back vivid memory of the unexpectedly intense arousal brought on by the commanding power of her presence. Dean found himself reliving the moment when she had first freed his hands. It was all jumbled up in his head now and he couldn't remember if he'd intended to escape or to push her down on the bed. Whatever he'd meant to do was made irrelevant when she ( _*Mistress*_ ) had picked him up from the chair as easily as she would an empty shirt. In that instant, Dean had known that his continued existence depended on her whim and her pleasure, and had found himself strangely content that it should be so.

Dean hit the brakes, letting the Impala roll to a stop in the middle of a back road. He sat there, engine idling, eyes blind to the South Dakota farmland surrounding him.

_What the fuck is happening to me? If they showed up now, I'd..._

It suddenly struck Dean that he hadn't bothered to load up his demon-defense arsenal today. Salt and holy water he had in the trunk, but that wasn't much good without the knife. If they showed up now, he'd be helpless to stop them.

_Now for the ten million dollar question. Do I want to stop them?_

Examining his feelings wasn't normally something Dean would indulge in. It never made a difference to the facts, to what was right and what was wrong, so what was the point? Now, though... now felt different. He knew in his bones that the only way to keep all his marbles together in one spot was to figure out exactly how he felt about the prospect of seeing her ( _*Mistress*_ ) again.

Dean figured he'd count the woody he was now sporting to be one vote in favor. Just one, though. On the other side of the scale, there was the absolute, indefensible wrongness of the whole thing. One vote no, at least. Hell, he'd nearly lost it when he found out about Sam and Ruby. She was small potatoes next to what Dean was dealing with and he didn't have any kind of excuse the way Sam had. He hadn't lost his brother (recently), he didn't have an apocalypse on the horizon for once, he wasn't addicted to demon blood, he...

...he wanted her.

As exciting as being restrained had been, it had left him starving to have his hands on her. To have felt the intimacy of her mouth and her pussy and yet not have felt her on his fingertips was maddening. More maddening was the thought of tasting her, of kneeling between her legs the way she had for him, of pushing her thighs apart and licking her folds open until he captured her clit with his lips and tongue, suckling and caressing it until she came with a gush that he greedily lapped up.

Dean had seen it in his mind a thousand times in the last ten days, even the last couple when he'd thought things were getting back to normal. Normal didn't seem to be an option now and the thought of carrying around that craving for an indefinite period of time was enough to make him shudder in dismay. _Okay, chalk up another yes vote._

Then there was the lying. The fibs he'd told so far were a drop in the bucket compared with the ocean of lies he'd have to invent to cover something like this up. Half the problems he and Sam had were caused by one lie or another. Big no vote there.

So where did that leave him? Two and two.

Shutting down the engine, Dean sat there for another forty-five minutes. Try as he might, he couldn't get past those four points, couldn't make one side of the scale heavier than the other. Finally, he turned the Impala around and headed back to Bobby's, seething with frustration but determined to get his equilibrium back. He'd managed it before, he could do it again.

Dean wondered if he'd be able to con Bobby out of more sleeping pills.

 

 * * * * * * * * *

 

Getting back on solid ground was harder than Dean thought it would be, and that was saying a lot. At first, he tried not to think about it, which failed miserably. He tried obsessively going over every angle, wanting to believe he would find some kind of answer if he only looked hard enough. That didn't work either. Two days later, he was still in the same shit-ass mess with no idea how to get out of it and it was really starting to wear on his nerves.

He wasn't the only one. When Dean snapped at Sam for the tenth time in one day, Sam stared him down for the space of fifteen seconds before throwing his hands up in frustration. “Man, I can't do anything right with you these days! I don't wanna be crude, but maybe you need to get laid, because you're cranky as fuck!” With that bit of wisdom, Sam stomped out of the room, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

Bobby watched him go, half-smiling, then turned his focus on Dean. “Kid might be right.”

“Not you, too! I don't wanna talk about this with you, Bobby.”

“Tough. And I didn't mean sex, necessarily. But you ain't hardly been outta the house for more'n a week now.” Bobby's eyes dropped to where Dean was unconsciously rubbing at his wrist. “Not since you came back all scraped up.”

Dropping his hands, Dean looked at Bobby, eyes hard and dangerous. “What are you tryin' to say, Bobby?”

Exasperated and not the slightest bit intimidated, Bobby huffed, “I'm _sayin'_ whoever she was, she got under your skin and maybe you should go talk to her.”

Dean stalked over to stand in front of Bobby, jabbing a finger at him. “You don't know anything about it! I'm a grown fucking man, so just stay the fuck out of my business!” Seeing red, Dean stormed out the back door, pacing blindly down the alleyways of ancient cars until his temper cooled.

When it finally did, Dean was ashamed of himself. There was no one who deserved that kind of treatment less than Bobby did. None of this was his fault. Shit, the man was practically a father to him! He pushed himself off the Caddy he was leaning on and headed back to the house. _Might as well apologize now and get it over with._ Dean didn't know what kind of explanation he could give, all he could hope for was that Bobby would take pity on him and let the whole thing drop for the moment.

“Hey, Bobby, I'm real sor...” Dean started talking the second he pushed through the door, but stopped short at the sight of Sam and Bobby throwing books and gear into bags. “What's up?”

“Caught a case out in Nevada, looks like it might be a siren.” The last couple weeks had been such a bore, Sam looked like he was on his way to Disneyland when he grinned up at Dean from where he knelt on the floor, packing his duffel-bag.

“Awesome! One more day without a case and I would have lost it.” Dean headed toward his room to pack his stuff, stopping next to Bobby on his way to the stairs. He spoke with a quiet voice and an expression of regret on his face. “Man, I'm sorry about earlier, Bobby, I shouldn'tve talked to you like that.”

Bobby's eyes were kind, but watchful. “Well, you weren't wrong about bein' a grown man. It's your life, I guess I can step back and let you live it. But you hear me, Dean, if you wanna talk about anything, you know I'm here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks, Bobby.” Turning, Dean headed for the stairs, pulling his phone out when it rang. Mind preoccupied with the upcoming hunt, he already had the phone at his ear when he belatedly realized the caller ID had said _666_. “What?” he snapped as he started upstairs, angry at having to speak to Crowley.

“Is that any way to greet to your Mistress, pet?” The low voice purred in his ear and Dean stopped short three stairs up, frozen at the sudden shock of reaction in his body at the sound. He responded automatically.

“No, M...” He cut off the word, abruptly aware of Bobby and Sam not twenty feet away. Forcing his legs to carry him up the stairs and out of sight, Dean waited until he was in his room with the door closed before continuing.

“No, Mistress, I'm sorry.” The words came out slightly breathless and he didn't think it was from climbing the stairs.

“Don't make me wait again, pet.” Her tone was stern and Dean felt himself growing hard in response. She continued before he could answer, letting heat seep into the vividness of her voice. “I've missed you, pet. Have you missed me?”

Dean couldn't speak anything but the truth. “Yes, Mistress. I've been going crazy missing you.”

Her laugh tingled over his skin. “That's what I like to hear, pet. Would you like to come visit me?”

With that question, Dean had his answer to the dilemma that had plagued him since Crowley's visit. “Yes, Mistress, please, I want to see you.” He felt oddly calm, standing there just inside his room, patiently waiting for her answer.

It came in a voice so rich with approval that it nearly made his knees buckle. “Ah, pet, you continually please me. I'll expect you within the hour,” she said before giving him the address of a warehouse on the outskirts of Sioux Falls.

“Mistress?”

“Yes, pet?”

“Aren't you gonna, I don't know, zap me over there?”

“Not this time, pet. This time, you have to come to me of your own free will. And if you decide not to come, that will be the end of it. I won't seek out punishment or revenge, but you'll never see my face again. It's entirely up to you, pet.”

Dean swallowed hard. “I understand, Mistress.”

“Good boy.” The line went dead.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Lasa

I hit End Call and tossed the phone back to Crowley with a grin. He caught it, looking at me curiously.

“Do you really think he'll come, Lasa? After you gave him that get-out-of-jail-free card?”

“Oh, I know he'll come.” There was zero doubt in my mind and none in my voice. Right this moment, Dean was getting ready to lie to his brother and his friend, skipping out on the hunt I'd had Crowley throw their way. I felt the certainty in my bones.

Crowley was obviously skeptical. “What _I_ know is that he's stubborn, mule-headed, obstinate, and any other synonym you care to choose. It took Alastair the equivalent of thirty years to break him!”

I snorted in contempt. “Alastair was a hack, in every sense of the word. No finesse whatsoever, no understanding of what makes humans tick. If they had given Dean to me, I'd have had him elbow deep in blood in thirty days.” It wasn't empty boasting and I could see that Crowley knew it.

“And when he gets here?”

“Then we come to the part of the program where I treat you badly. He has to believe that you've misbehaved enough to warrant real punishment. If you're not ready for that, tell me now. Once he gets here, I will show no mercy.”

He laughed darkly. “When have you _ever_ shown mercy?”

I leaned in for a kiss, my eyes serious on his. “You have no idea, my pet.”

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Dean slumped back against his bedroom door with his eyes closed, phone clutched in numb fingers, cock hard and ready. His brain felt scrambled, but he had to figure out the least bullshit-sounding lie for ditching on the hunt. Because he _had_ to ditch the hunt. Now that the moment had finally come, there was nothing left in him that could resist.

Pushing himself upright, decision made, Dean started throwing his gear into a bag. Gotta make it look good; whatever lie he told would have to include him leaving town. With a sigh and still no clear idea of what he was going to say, he braced himself and headed downstairs, bag in hand.

Sam glanced up as he appeared. “Who was on the phone?”

“Picked up another case, haunting up in Minnesota. Figured I'd take that one and you guys take care of the siren. I've hated those things ever since that dick Munroe back in Bedford.”

“When it rains, it pours, I guess.” Bobby looked concerned and not overly excited about letting Dean go off on his own given his recent behavior. “You sure you don't wanna wait 'til one of us can come with you?”

“Nah, I got this. Sounds like a simple haunting, I could probably do it in my sleep. And hunting a siren is a two man job. You guys gotta keep a close eye on each other, make sure it doesn't hit ya with the whammy.”

Sam piped up. “Who's the case?”

“What?” Dean stalled for time.

“Who actually called with the case? It sounded for a second like you were going to say 'No, ma'am' when you were on the phone.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it was Mrs. Hay, teacher I had in high school. She was a strict bitch, had me kinda scared of her, used to insist we answer questions yes ma'am or no ma'am. Old habit I guess.”

“I remember her! That was in South Carolina, right? She was mean, sure, but super hot, even if she was in her forties.” Sam's smile was nostalgic, obviously remembering the hotness that was Mrs. Hay, before his expression fell into puzzlement. “How'd she know to call you?”

“Uh, worked a case for her while you were at Stanford.” _Dammit, Sammy, quit askin' questions!_ “She retired up to Minnesota and now she thinks there's a ghost in her apartment building. Probably just senility at this point, but I'm gonna check it out.”

“Hey! Watch it with the senility jokes! _I_ was in my forties when you two were in high school.” Bobby sounded offended, but then he turned a grin on Dean. “Hell, maybe I should go instead.”

“Yeah, no thanks, Bobby, I got this. You two go on to Nevada and I'll see you in, what? Four or five days, maybe a week?”

“Sounds about right.” Hefting his bag, Bobby led the way to the door, speaking over his shoulder to Dean. “You call us if things take a turn.”

“Sure thing. You, too.”

They trooped out, Dean sliding into the Impala while Sam and Bobby climbed into the old Chevelle Bobby drove. He took the road that would lead him north to Minnesota until the guys split off to the west. Then Dean circled around east of town, pulling up in front of an abandoned warehouse with barely five minutes to spare of the hour he had been given.

Parking the car, Dean double checked the address and then took a couple seconds to settle himself. Adrenalin and whatever it was that caused lust were pulsing through his system. Now that he was here, about to see her, he found the prospect more than a little daunting. It wasn't the danger that gave him pause, although walking unarmed into a hook-up with Queen and King Demon had to be one of the riskiest things he'd ever done. No, the thing that had Dean on edge was the idea of _her_ and the power she seemed to have over him, to make him do things, make him want things that he would never have considered otherwise. If he had any sense at all, he'd start up the Impala and get the fuck out of there.

But sense had gone out the window two weeks ago, because Dean found himself climbing out of the car and approaching the entrance with caution. Testing the knob to find it was unlocked, he quickly tugged the door open and slipped inside. Before his eyes could adjust to the dim lighting, a demon appeared on either side, each seizing an arm before he could resist. He waited impatiently as a third demon patted him down for weapons, finding nothing. It stared at Dean, expression layered with contempt and envy and anger at the order to leave him unharmed.

“Pathetic meat sack!” it hissed at him as it stepped back, flashing demon-black eyes at him.

Dean's response was full of derision. “Dude, you just wish that you were in my shoes.”

Rage filled the demon's face and it reached into its jacket, pulling out a vicious looking knife and lunging at him. Still held between the other two, Dean had no way to defend himself. He barely had time to regret his sass before the demon dropped the knife and crumpled to the ground in front of him, howling and screaming in agony.

“He's mine! NO ONE TOUCHES WHAT'S MINE!” Her voice rang out over the shrieks of pain as the Mistress appeared in an inner doorway, hand outstretched toward the suffering monster. Dean's cock stirred at the sight of her, but she had eyes for nothing except the one who had disobeyed her.

In the midst of its ordeal, the demon's mouth gaped open and a stream of black smoke began to pour out. “No!” With a savage gesture, she somehow forced the smoke back into its vessel. “You aren't going anywhere, ever again.” Glancing up at the two who still held Dean, she ordered, “Remember this.” The flat words carried a grim warning that was echoed in her eyes before she looked again at the would-be assassin.

With another gesture too quick for Dean to follow, she pointed at the demon's feet and they all watched as hellfire began to consume it from the inside out. It was a sight Dean had seen countless times after using the Kurdish knife, hellfire flickering under its skin as it died. This time, it was in extreme slow motion, starting at the feet and creeping up through the vessel, burning as it went. By the time the internal fire reached its chest, the thing should have been dead. Her power must have kept it alive, though, because it screamed to the very last.

Silence fell as she looked again at the two remaining demons. “As for you two, you would have let him kill my pet when I gave my word he would be unharmed with me. I'll deal with you later.” At a snap of her fingers, smoke poured from their mouths, sinking down through the floor to disappear. The vessels dropped to the ground with heavy thuds.

Only then did she look at Dean and her expression softened somewhat at the stunned look on his face. She came forward and took his hand, making him shiver, lust and fear tangled up together. “My pet, I'm sorry about all that.” She aimed a desultory kick at the nearest body. “Good help is so hard to find. Come inside, we'll have a drink and try to forget about this, so that we can enjoy ourselves.” She tugged on his hand, leading the way to the door by which she had entered.

They entered the lavishly elegant living room that lay on the other side of the battered warehouse door. Dean barely had time to notice any of the details before she was pressing on his shoulder, urging him to take a seat on the comfortable couch before she moved to a well-stocked bar and poured two glasses of golden brown liquid.

As she returned to where he sat, Dean's eyes followed her every move, drinking in every detail of her presence. She had done something to her eyes to make them deeper and more mysterious, and the scent she wore surrounded him with spice and musk. He itched to feel the silky wine-colored fabric of her dress against his fingers, pressed to her warm flesh as he held her. Or to grasp her wrists hard above the mellow gold and vivid blue triangles of the bracelets she wore. To press his mouth to the smooth arch of her neck below the delicate matching earrings as he pushed the fabric that draped over one shoulder down to reveal her breasts.

Somehow, she was even more overwhelming to his sense than she had been the first time. Dean shifted, as what was now a full blown erection pressed uncomfortably against his jeans, and waited to see what would happen next.

 

 * * * * * * * * *

Lasa

I could see that my decision to adorn myself for him was having the desired effect. Of course, this simple outfit wouldn't have been worthy of the lowliest servant in my days of glory, but these were different times. Still, it made me feel unexpectedly happy to be wearing at least some of my old finery. I pushed aside the whisper of nostalgia that ran through me and focused on tonight's pleasures.

Handing Dean his glass, I settled onto the couch something less than six inches away. Reaching out, I trailed one fingertip up the back of his forearm, watching as the small hairs there stood on end at the touch. “It _is_ good to see you again, pet.” Sipping at the very old Scotch, I rolled it over my tongue, letting the perfume rise up through my skull. I watched with some amusement as Dean swigged it down like rotgut, when the only thing that counts is getting it past the taste buds as quickly as possible. Such an infant.

He set the glass down with a muted thunk and angled toward me, eyes dark and face serious. “Mistress?”

“Yes?”

“Can I touch you?” Dean was doing his best, I could see that, but there was still a hint of impatient demand under his words. It would do him some good to learn to curb that.

“Not just yet, pet. Don't you know that anticipation only makes everything more intense?”

He boldly ran a hand over the bulge in his jeans and I saw his hips lift a little at the contact. “I'm as intense as I've ever been in my life, Mistress.”

With a soft chuckle, I slid a little closer, now just an inch away. “Don't worry, all the waiting will be worth it. Obedience brings sweet rewards.”

Dean's voice deepened as he leaned in to me, and I felt his warm breath stir my hair. “I remember, Mistress.”

Oh, he was good. “You know, pet, you really were a refreshing change.” There was anger in my glance over to the corner of the room. Dean's eyes followed mine and he tensed to see Crowley sitting there, robed in black, hands behind him. There was a ball gag in his mouth and fire in his eyes. “You were so sweetly obedient, for the most part. Unlike that one.” I nodded my chin in Crowley's direction.

Moving closer to Dean, I settled the length of my thigh against his, pulling his arm up and over my shoulder so I could lean into his chest. “Now pet, what I want you to do is sit there quietly for a little bit and watch him.” I shot a daggered glance in Crowley's direction. “I've given him an order to keep his eyes on us, but he obviously can't be trusted to obey. Since I will be otherwise occupied, I want you to make sure he doesn't look away. I trust that _you'll_ obey?”

Dean dropped his eyes to mine before returning his gaze to the angry man in the corner. “Yes, Mistress.”

I pressed my lips to his neck. “Good.” One large hand began to slide over my knee and the other down my back. I pulled away a little, shaking my head. “No, not yet. No touching, pet, just for now.” Dean slowly, reluctantly, pulled his hands away and I hummed in approval, returning to nuzzle below his ear, one hand splayed over his muscular chest. I felt it rise as he drew in a deep breath and then released it in a slow shuddering exhale. The effort of his attempt at control sharpened my hunger and I shifted against Dean, pressing my body to his, feasting on what skin was visible. I took care not to obstruct the line of sight to Crowley, though, and my occasional glances confirmed that Dean's eyes were locked on the room's other occupant.

Unbuttoning his shirt (a red very similar to my own dress), I smoothed my hands across his skin, pushing it back to expose his shoulders and chest. I leaned down, delicately swirling my tongue over his nipple until he moaned quietly, then gave it a sharp tug with my teeth before soothing the hurt with a kiss. The sound Dean made already carried an edge of desperation to it and the knowledge set me aflame. Raising myself, I hiked my skirt up and straddled his lap, pressing my silk-covered core against the hard bulge of his cock.

A throb of weakness ran through my muscles at how fantastic even that limited contact felt. I fell to his neck, licking and biting his shoulder, grinding myself against him, gasping. When I felt Dean's hands steal over my ass, it felt so good that I moaned and whispered in his ear. “Keep your eyes on his and I'll let you touch me however you want.” Letting him break the rules hadn't been a part of the plan, but I immediately saw that I could use it to my advantage.

In response, Dean gripped my hips hard in both hands, pulling me forcefully down onto him as he thrust up against me. I pushed myself up from his chest, undulating against him, and I could see that his eyes were still focused on Crowley. His hands, however, roamed freely, wandering over my back and ass and thighs, slipping around to travel up over my ribs to cradle and squeeze my breasts through the thin silk of my dress. I whimpered a little. Last year in Topeka had been fun, but hadn't seemed like anything special. Now, though, it was like I'd never felt his hands on me before. Maybe it was because I was in my true form this time, not the disguise I'd worn then.  In any case, it was astonishing the effect his touch was having.

I murmured a wordless encouragement when Dean began to gather the fabric of my skirt and push it to my waist, revealing a scant scrap of the same red silk, darker now with the dampness of my arousal. Without looking down, he ran one hand down my body, skimming over my belly and under the edge of the fabric as if drawn by a magnetic force. I tilted my hips into his exploration and his fingers slid through my slick folds without resistance.

Gasping at the contact, I dug my fingernails into his shoulders at the same time that he made a sound low in his throat, almost a growl. Looking at him, I was pleased by the hint of triumph in Dean's expression as he stared at Crowley. Not so different from us as he thought, was he?

Dean began to glide his hand back and forth over my pussy with firm, steady caresses, dragging across my clit with each pass and just barely pressing into my entrance on every down-stroke. With a growl of my own, I pushed and rolled against his hand, riding the current of pleasure. He lowered his head a little and I felt his teeth on the meat of my shoulder. It wasn't a bite or even a nip, just a firm grip on my flesh, and I shuddered at the unexpectedly powerful sensations that ran through me.

At that moment, without varying his pace at all, Dean began to pump two fingers smoothly into me, still rubbing across my clit. Within seconds, I cried out, convulsing against him as my cunt clenched around his fingers. He never loosened his teeth on my shoulder and even in the midst of my orgasm, I knew that his eyes were on Crowley. This was a show of dominance, his way of vying for the role of alpha male, and it fell in perfectly with my intentions.

As I started to relax against him, Dean released my shoulder and pressed an open mouth kiss to the red marks left on my skin, hands smoothing gently over my thighs. I pulled his face to mine and kissed him fiercely as the last streaks of electricity shivered through me. Uncaring now whether Crowley was watching or not, I savored the feel of Dean's lips on mine and the hard pulse in his throat under my hand.

With a sigh, I pulled away. “Well done, pet. Very well done.” I could see the hungry demand in Dean's eyes and set a finger over his parted lips before he could speak. “No, don't say anything. I chose to let you break the rules because it pleased me to do so, pet. Don't mistake that for weakness.” Grinding myself down against his erection in a way that made his breath catch and his fists clench, I continued. “You're still _mine_ and you will do as I say.” One last roll of my hips to watch his eyes slide closed at the feeling and then I stood up, tugging my skirt back into place. “Now, go into the bedroom, strip and put on the robe, and be waiting patiently for me when I get there.”

Rising from the couch, Dean stood as close to me as possible without actually touching. He leaned down and I felt the low, gravelly words against the skin of my neck. “Yes, Mistress.” I watched him stride off in the direction of the door opposite the entry and there was entirely too much confidence in his posture for perfect submission. What can I say? I always like a challenge.

Turning to Crowley, I moved to unfasten his bindings and remove the gag, giving him a moment to stretch and recover a bit. I met his glare with a serene smile.

Working his jaw, he bit out the words. “You weren't joking when you said merciless.”

I couldn't help the dark laugh that spilled out at that. Running a hand through his hair, I looked down at Crowley fondly. “My pet, I haven't even started.”

 

  * * * * * * * * *

 

“I won't do it! Not for him!”

I couldn't be bothered to wonder why Crowley insisted on pretending reluctance when we both knew differently. It didn't really matter, as long as he obeyed me.

“Remember, pet,” I gestured at the ring pressed to the base of Crowley's cock, “I control you now. I can make you do it, but it won't be nearly as pleasant, for him _or_ for you.”

“Really? You control me, do you?” Crowley's face was viciously defiant as he uttered the magic words. “Peta babkama!”

Despite his open disobedience, I had to chuckle at the crestfallen look on his face when the cock ring didn't drop away. “Ha! So you know the words and you think that will control the spell. I'm disappointed, pet, I didn't think you were that simpleminded.” I laughed again for a long moment, then sobered as I caught his eye. “Do it.” There was no allowance for refusal in my voice. “I know you know how. And as punishment for your rebellion, you are not to come until and _unless_ I see fit to give you permission.”

With a black scowl, Crowley moved to kneel at the end of the bed, hands gripping hard at the edge of the mattress to either side of Dean's knees. With a slightly panicked sound, Dean desperately started trying to shift his hips away without dislodging me from my perch on his chest. I signaled to Crowley to hold off, then looked down at Dean where he lay on his back below me. “Pet, he's being punished and you're being rewarded. You should _savor_ this.” Shifting forward a little more so that I knelt directly over his face, I ran a slow hand down into my pussy. “Isn't this what you wanted? To taste me on your tongue? To make me come so hard I spill into your mouth?” I pushed against my hand a little, enjoying the friction.

Dean's tongue snaked out along his lower lip before he caught the tip of it between his teeth, nodding with a small, low sound in the back of his throat.

“You fantasized about it while we were apart, didn't you, pet?”

“Yes, Mistress.” The words came out on a rush of breath and his blown pupils were fixed on my wetly glistening core just above him.

“This is that moment, pet. Think of the rest as a bonus. Besides, doesn't the idea of having the King of Hell suck your cock give you a thrill on some level?” He didn't respond and I tugged lightly on his hair, just a hint of threat in my voice. “Answer me, pet. Does it excite you?”

Staring up at me as if he couldn't look away, Dean whispered, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy,” I purred in approval, leaning forward and slowly sinking down onto his eager mouth. I closed my eyes as he began to lovingly explore my folds before dipping down, pushing his tongue deep into my cunt and then drawing a wide, slow line up the center of my pussy to press around my clit like a warm, firm blanket.

I moaned at the realization that I had discovered another tongue as skilful as Crowley's. Different technique, but the same intuitive response and desire to please. I jerked against his mouth and moaned again when he began a slow and steady thrusting of his tongue against the sensitive nerve bundle. Dean's arms crept under the backs of my legs, his hands reaching over to grip the insides of my thighs, spreading them wide to give him better access. He used that leverage to tilt my hips forward, holding me in place against his mouth as he devoured me. Given my previous experiences with him, I had expected a leisurely Sunday drive and what I got was Saturday night drag races. Dean was pushing me to my peak so fast, the muscles low in my stomach tensed in knots of arousal tight enough to be almost painful.

I hadn't actually intended to let him bring me to orgasm at this point in the agenda, but not even I could resist this. My people used to say “to turn from a blessing is to invite a curse”. And this man's mouth was surely a blessing.

With a wailing cry, I locked my elbows to keep from collapsing as a cascade of intense pleasure burst through me. Dean never stopped moving his tongue against me, drawing out my orgasm for an endless few moments before slowly gentling me down. His grip on my legs loosened and I sat back a little, breathing hard, and looked down to see that he had the most ridiculously pleased-with-himself grin on his face. Before I could even compliment him on his skill, he spoke.

“Again, Mistress?”

A flush of heat ran through me at his words, but he was walking a fine line. Masking my response, I took his chin in my hand, automatically brushing my thumb over his bottom lip and giving him a direct look. “You're bold, pet, in a way that pleases me for the moment. That can easily change. Be careful you don't get too bold.”

I felt a slight tremor skitter over his body and Dean closed his eyes for a moment before answering. I found myself distracted by the dark smudge of his eyelashes against his cheek. Were there no flaws on this man?

“Yes, Mistress.” Dean's eyes were on me again and his expression was open and yielding. I could see that he would accept whatever I chose to give him, because he knew that whatever I chose would be certain to assuage some of the deep hunger that filled him.

That expression is one that I find impossible to resist. I smiled down at Dean. “To answer your question, pet, yes. Again.” The look of sheer joy on his face made me laugh indulgently as I slid my knees apart, sitting upright as I sank down to meet his mouth. I watched his eyes flutter closed at the taste of me and we moaned in unison.

I rode the waves of sensation for a few seconds, reluctant to distract him from his oh-so-important work. This wasn't about the pleasure of the moment however, not entirely. Gathering myself, I glanced back at Crowley and gestured him to begin, speaking low over my shoulder. “Make it fast. And don't spill anything,” I added significantly.

Ignoring his sarcastically muttered “Yes, Mistress”, I watched as Crowley settled himself between Dean's legs, taking that beautiful cock into his hand and sliding his mouth over the head. I felt Dean's grunt against my wet pussy and looked down to find his blazing green eyes fixed on my face as he worked his tongue gently against me.

I ran one hand through his hair, rolling my hips against the delicious friction he was creating. “Don't come until I say, pet.” My voice was breathless and I could feel my pulse racing already. Dean had shifted his approach; he was less aggressive than before, his touch lingering and relaxed, and it was exactly what I needed to ease me back into the heights.

Quickly, though, his lips and tongue became more forceful and bold, suckling and nipping until I was gasping above him, struggling to stay upright under the onslaught of sensation. I felt his hips begin to jump and his hands clenched into the flesh of my thighs. Dean was close, but fighting off his orgasm and just the sight of his face, fierce in concentration as he struggled to continue to please me, was enough to bring me to the edge. What tumbled me over it was the deliberately slow press of two fingers deep into my cunt followed by an equally deliberate drag of those fingers back to curl up and stroke that sensitive internal miracle known as the g-spot. The force of the pleasure that filled me stole my breath and I could only pant helplessly as it hurtled through every nerve ending at once.

As soon as my vision cleared, I pulled back from Dean, sliding one hand down through my folds and gently riding out the aftershocks as I watched him. The moment I lifted myself from him, Dean had thrown his head back against the pillows, eyes clenched shut and a visceral groan falling from his lips. He was thrusting harder now and I looked over my shoulder to see that Crowley was lost in the moment, too. His eyes were closed as he took Dean's cock deep into his throat, over and over, and I heard him hum with pleasure around the thick shaft, rutting his hips against the side of the bed.

“Please... Mistress...” The words had a choked, desperate quality and I looked back at Dean to see him force his eyes open in one quick pleading glance before they slid shut again. His jaw clenched rhythmically and he tossed his head from side to side.

Pulling my hand from my slick core, I ran one wet finger over his bottom lip and then pushed it into his mouth. As he sucked greedily, I whispered, “Yes, pet, come now.”

At the quiet words, Dean growled loudly, arching up off the bed as his climax took him. I looked back to see Crowley deftly following Dean's thrusting hips, cheeks hollowing as he swallowed down every hot jet with obvious enjoyment. Flicking a small gesture in his direction, I murmured in a low voice, “Peta babkama.”

Crowley froze for a moment, then a groan escaped him and his hips stuttered against the mattress, but he never faltered in his attention to his task, ravenously drawing out the last of Dean's orgasm as his own shuddered to a halt.

Sliding to the side, I sat comfortably, surveying the very satisfying results of this latest encounter. Dean's face was slack, eyes closed as he sucked in lungfuls of air. Crowley was sitting back on his heels, chest heaving, but his eyes were open, staring at me with just the slightest hint of gratitude. That wouldn't last long.

I sat forward, face serious. “Pet. Did you come without my permission?”

Eyes widening in surprise, Crowley sat up straighter. “But, Mistress, the cock ring?”

“I specifically told you not to come. You relied on a device for control instead of your own self-discipline and obedience to me. I'm very disappointed.” I glanced down at the edge of the mattress and Crowley's eyes followed mine, a slight flush creeping into his face. “And didn't I tell you not to spill anything?” My voice was severe and unyielding. “You either can't or won't obey me. I don't know which is worse.”

“I'm sorry, Mistress, I got carried away!” I was gratified to see that Crowley's contrition actually seemed genuine. “Please forgive me, I promise to follow every order to the letter.”

I slowly swept an assessing gaze over him, silent so long that Crowley began to shift impatiently. Gauging his mood, I waited until a trace of anger showed in his eyes before I spoke. “Very well. _One_ more chance. You can stay, but you won't be taking part in any more of tonight's pleasures.” His expression darkened. “Do you understand and agree?”

He forced the words out. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Sit down over there,” I nodded to a chair against the wall, “and keep quiet with your hands at your sides. If you're very, very good, when we're done, I might even let you touch yourself. Am I not a generous Mistress, pet?”

Crowley dropped into the chair, hands clenched into fists, but his tone was carefully without sarcasm when he replied. “Very generous, Mistress.”

Smiling, I turned back to face Dean, who had pulled himself up to sit beside me. I had been aware of his eyes on my face and body throughout the interaction with Crowley. That knowledge had combined with the adrenaline rush which always accompanied putting the King of Hell in his place and it left me pulsing with arousal as I met Dean's brilliant green gaze.

“As for you, my pet, once again you have proven that I was right in choosing you.” I brushed a hand through his hair and down to cup his jaw, smiling in approval. With a slow blink, Dean leaned into my caress and my smile widened. “I think you've earned a reward.” Drawing him down to me, I whispered against his lips, “No hands,” before claiming his mouth with my own.

As I fell into the heat of Dean's kiss, I let my own hands roam freely, exploring his back and chest and arms. Pressing closer, I scraped my fingernails lightly over the skin of his thighs and felt him shudder in response. His body tensed and his cock stiffened under my attentions as Dean struggled to keep his hands at his sides. Finally pulling myself away from that plush mouth, I smiled into his lust-blown eyes.

“Tell me the truth now, pet, what do you want right at this moment?” I felt his cock twitch under my hand and his hungry gaze intensified, but he hesitated to speak. “Never be afraid to answer a direct question with me, pet, as long as you answer with the truth.”

Dean raked his eyes down my body and back up again before answering in an impossibly deep voice. “I want to hold you down, Mistress, and fuck you into the mattress.”

My breath caught and I stared at him for a moment. Was it possible that Dean, who responded so well to domination, could play the other side of it, too? That would be almost too good to be true. “Is it that you want me to _tell_ you to hold me down? Because I can do that. Or maybe you'd rather be the one giving the orders?”

Dean's eyes dropped to my lips, no doubt swollen from his kisses. “Truth, right?” Mouth unaccountably dry, I nodded once curtly. His voice rumbled up through his chest when he continued. “Yeah, Mistress, I wanna be in charge. Wanna tie you up, touch you any way I want, suck and lick and stroke you until _you're_ the one beggin' _me_ for permission to come. And then, Mistress, I want to shove my cock into your hot, slick pussy and pound us both into oblivion.”

Having him call me Mistress while describing how he would dominate me pushed all the right buttons. Listening to his words, I didn't realize my eyes had closed until I opened them to find Dean's gaze locked on mine, filled with both a question and a challenge. I knew it was too soon to give him that kind of leeway, but oh, I was tempted! He was already an excellent candidate for adding to my permanent collection. If Dean was as good at this as he seemed to be at everything else, it was a _fait accompli_.

“Hmmm, pet,” I murmured, licking my lips and leaning closer, “I find that idea very... enticing.” I kissed him, fast and hard, while I slid my palm up and over the sensitive head of his rigid cock. As I began to pull away, Dean stretched out toward me, maintaining contact as long as he could without his hands. Moving to the edge of the bed, I got up and sauntered over to the dresser that stood against the wall under a huge mirror.

I could see Crowley's face in the reflection and it was clear that he'd heard my exchange with Dean and was less than thrilled with the idea of having to watch me submit to the hunter. I'd already decided against it, but this was a perfect opportunity to turn _that_ screw a little more. Catching Crowley's eye, I reached out to open a black velvet case that sat on the dresser and slowly ran one finger over the ruby collar he'd given me. His eyes widened.

“No, Lasa! Not that!” The second he said the words, Crowley's face flushed with the horrified realization of his blunder.

I froze, still touching the blood red gems of the collar, my face expressionless as I stared him down. My voice was deceptively soft and even. “What did you call me?”

“I'm sorry, Mistress, it was a mistake!”

I held up my hand, stalling whatever else Crowley might add. “You say that far too frequently.” Turning slowly from the mirror to face him, I let a flat chill enter my eyes and my voice. “Go into the other bedroom, get dressed, and wait for me. Once my new pet and I,” I sent an affectionate look at Dean, “have had our fill of each other, I will take the time to consider your punishment.”

It was obvious to me that the unprecedented order to get dressed had shaken Crowley and that my emphasizing Dean's presence had angered him. Crowley sent me a pleading look that covered a deep well of rage. “Mistress, you aren't going to let _him_...”

I cut him off before he could complete the question, my words now low and dangerous. “Go. _Now_.”

Eyes murderous, Crowley stood up stiffly and marched to the door without another word.

Waiting until his footsteps had receded, I closed the velvet case, concealing the glitter of gems, and turned back to Dean. The look on his face both dared me to give him control and promised untold pleasure if I did so. _Soon_ , I thought to myself, _but not yet_.

“As intriguing as your offer is, pet, you aren't ready for that.” I picked up our conversation as if the moment with Crowley had never happened. “Your behavior tonight has been willful and I believe you require more discipline before you're worthy of that responsibility. Prove to me tonight that you can truly control yourself, to the point that you pass that control entirely over to me. If you can do that, I'll put myself in your hands.”

From where I still stood at the dresser, I could see the fingers of one hand unconsciously slide over the opposite wrist as Dean answered. “Yes, Mistress.”

“You want to be tied up again, don't you, pet?” Without waiting for the answer I already knew, I went on. “Those cuffs were a little rough on you last time.” Opening a drawer, I selected a silk scarf, drawing it out between my fingers as I smiled at him. “We can use something more forgiving this time, if you like. What do you think, pet, scarf or handcuffs?”

His voice was husky and carried a current of need mixed with acquiescence that sent my pulse higher. “Cuffs, Mistress, please.”

With an approving nod, I pulled a pair from the drawer, along with a few other select items and glided back toward the bed, my smile predatory. “Let's get started then, shall we?”

 

  * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean let himself into Bobby's early the next morning, gritty-eyed and groggy with exhaustion. Lasa (he grinned to himself at the knowledge of her real name) had been unrelenting in her demands last night and he was running on fumes just dragging himself through the empty house and up the stairs to his room. Dean was faintly aware of being thankful for the overwhelming fatigue. It made it easier to push the implications of what he was doing out of his head.

He tramped over to the foot of his bed, walking onto the mattress on his knees and reaching out to gather the pillow under his cheek as he settled onto his stomach, falling into the comforting dark.

Six hours later, Dean rolled over with a groan, cracking one eye to squint up at the midday sun blaring through the windows. Starving, he sat up, thoughts full of pancakes and bacon and that sweet elixir of life, coffee. Breakfast was wiped from his mind, however, when his eye fell on the familiar black-clad figure of Crowley seated casually at the small desk against one wall.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Dean sprang up from the bed, snatching the Kurdish knife from the nightstand. “What the fuck are you doing here, you limey maggot?”

Crowley raised his eyebrows in anger. “For the last time, I am not fucking _English_!”

“Yeah, don't care.” Dean moved to stand threateningly over the smaller man. “You better blip your non-English ass outta here or I'm gonna stick you like a pig.”

“Please! Like I couldn't squash you against that wall like a slow moving fly. Dial down the testosterone for a moment and let's talk. I came to offer a deal.”

With a harsh laugh, Dean stepped back, his eyes mocking. “A deal? With you? Tell me, has Hell frozen over yet?”

“Hardy-har, your wit astounds me.” Crowley's voice was dry. “No, wait, it's your witlessness that astounds me." He gestured impatiently. "We have a common goal, you and I.”

“I seriously doubt that, but go ahead.”

“We both need to break away from our current sexual entanglement.”

Dean's eyebrows climbed in surprise. “I thought you two were cozy as fuck? Partners in crime and all that. You sure played along with it all.”

“Do you really think I signed up for last night's... _humiliation_? It was the last straw! Made me realize it's high time I rid myself of that _merciless bitch_ ,” he spat the last words out.

“You need my help to do it? You're the King of Hell, take care of it!”

With a frustrated glare, Crowley stood and began to pace. “She's no ordinary demon or I would!” He stopped and looked at Dean. “The truth is that I'm not sure I can take her on my own. If I try and fail, all the tortures of Hell will seem like a child's birthday party compared to the torments she'll inflict.”

“You're not exactly convincing me of the wisdom of helping you break up with your girlfriend.”

“I don't want to break up with her. I want you to... how do you so charmingly phrase it?... gank her.”

“Uh-uh.” Dean shook his head. “I've never seen her hurt anyone but demons and that gets a pass in my book. Count me out.”

“You don't want to hurt her because she's given you nothing but pleasure. That won't last, you know.” Crowley's words were bitter. “Do you think she wasn't all smiles and caresses and endless blow jobs when we met? She was and believe me, it was like nothing else I've ever experienced. I know, being the new favorite is intoxicating. But one day, she'll get bored and find another idiot to toy with. You'll be relegated to the back burner and let me tell you, it can get chilly back there.”

“If you're done with the pity-party,” Dean drawled, “I can tell you that I don't give a shit. Find someone else to do your dirty work.”

“I suppose I'm not really surprised you don't have the guts to join me. I wonder if Sam and Bobby will be surprised when they find out how you've been spending your time recently. I'll wager their jaws drop.”

Dean's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp and savage enough to draw blood, grip tightening on his knife. “When this is over, I'm gonna peel your skin off and make myself a wallet.” He took a deep breath, clenching his jaw. “Fine! But I ain't killin' her. We'll exorcise her and you can deal with her downstairs.”

Crowley looked thoughtful, considering the offer. “I suppose I can arrange some sort of containment area to receive her when she descends.” Nodding his head in decision, he stepped toward Dean. “Agreed. We'll work together to exorcise her so I can trap and neutralize her in Hell.” With a leering smile, Crowley looked up at Dean, licking his lips. “Seal the deal?”

Hastily stepping back, Dean raised the knife. “Dude, I ain't even gonna shake your hand.”

"Rude."

 

  * * * * * * * * *

Lasa

I looked up from my book as Crowley materialized. “So? How did he take it?”

“Hook, line, and sinker. Never _would_ have done if you hadn't been as appalling to me as you were.” He bowed his head a little in deference to my fine judgment, but I could see lingering resentment in his face.

Setting the book aside, I stood and moved to him, sliding my arms around his waist and giving him a calculatedly soft kiss. “My dear, dark crow, I'll never give you more than is necessary or more than you can handle. In all of my forty-seven centuries,” Crowley's eyes widened at my acknowledgment of my true age and I nodded in confirmation before continuing, “I have never found another who is a match to you. That's why I'm able to put you through so much, because I know what you're capable of.” Another kiss, equally soft but filled with desire. “Now, would you like me to put on my collar, Master? I believe it's your turn.”

Sliding one hand up to grip my throat just under the jawline, Crowley kissed me punishingly and I felt myself grow wet in response. He pulled back, staring into my eyes. “Yes, sweeting. Just the collar and the blindfold, nothing else. I have some frustrations to work out,” he said darkly.

Shivering with arousal, I nodded and moved to the door. Already, though, my thoughts were wandering to the next encounter with Dean. All of my plans for him hinged on that next round of the game. Already certain of the outcome, I could only anticipate the discovery of exactly how the events would unfold that broke Dean Winchester to my will once and for all.

 

  * * * * * * * * *

 

**To be continued...**

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know - a damn cliffhanger! I know a lot of you probably hate those, but rest assured, I have the third and final part started already. That one's gonna be fun (if I can pull it off, it's kinda complicated, wish me luck!).  
> Thanks so much for reading and any comments or critiques are always, always welcome!


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